We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.
--Elizabeth Alexander

Thursday, September 04, 2008

Ready for Rain

Parts of me have been dry so longDeprived of any moistureHardened into unyielding stoneI don’t remember how softness feels

When I survey the varied terrainI skip over the baked ground like white spaceFocus instead on the luscious green fieldsBursting with life soaked in steady rain

Storm clouds gather on the horizon Ready to pour down life-giving sustenanceThe green fields are ready, soft and waiting to receiveTiny roots and leaves barely shading the top soil

But the bone dry crust is doomed When the rain comes, water runs off in riversNothing penetrates the scabbed, scarred groundAn impenetrable shell shields everything below

Unless the rain falls so very gentlyCollecting leisurely, it pools on the surfaceSome evaporates into oblivion, but a few drops manageTo slowly soak down, ever-so-slightly softening

That’s when I notice – I feel the drynessOpposing the smallest claim moisture has staked The hard ground, desperate for rain, cries outTo be broken up and turned over, exposed to all the elements

Rain finds the plowed up earth, soaks into every crakSaturates even the smallest spaces between the dirtFinding at last the seeds hidden beneath the surfaceReady to germinate as the slick mud becomes soft earth

And if the seeds grow fast enough, they lock the moisture inProtect the ground from the sun’s dehydrating gazeSecure the surface from the exposure that forces crusting overEnsures that the soil remains ready for rain